


No Simple in Loving You

by alison



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bartenders, M/M, Sexual Content, commitment issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-03
Updated: 2013-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-21 23:07:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alison/pseuds/alison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis gets a job as a bartender where he meets Harry.</p>
<p>Sometimes love isn't enough. But sometimes it's everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Simple in Loving You

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [Ivy](harryndlouis.tumblr.com) for the amazing beta. All remaining mistakes are my own. Additional thanks to those who test read (Melarys, Sharika, and Janie) and to my very patient friends who dealt with me during the writing and editing of this. Especially [Ava](androgylou.tumblr.com) who bore the brunt of my crazy.
> 
> There is one scene which includes a homophobic slur. It is not relevant to the plot.
> 
> I do not actually know how body shots work. Sorry.

*****

“Do you remember the first thing I said to you?”

Louis puffs out a laugh, rolling onto his side to reach under the counter, searching for the pack of cigarettes he'd stowed there a few weeks back.

“Always remember that,” Louis says because he knows Harry knows he remembers. Always remembers.

“I was right, though, wasn't I?”

“Suppose you were,” Louis replies, meeting Harry's eyes for a moment. His lips curve up in what is more than a simple smile. It's more like a 'thank you' or a 'how the fuck did any of this happen?'. He finally finds the cigarettes and shouts a happy “aha!” as he folds back the top and plucks one out of the box, settling down on his back again.

“Can't smoke in here, you prat,” Harry says slowly, a playful smile creeping across his face, pulling Louis in by the waist.

“Also can't fuck in here, but we're breaking all the rules tonight, aren't we?”

Louis lights the cigarette as Harry's arms snake around his waist and his chin rests on Louis' shoulder. He concentrates on the smoke burning down his throat instead of the soft lips pressing once into his skin before the chin is back, digging into his flesh.

“Remember what I said when you told me you were shit at relationships?”

Louis takes another drag, nodding, and exhales a cloud of smoke.

“I remember,” he singsongs quietly, sort of like an 'I told you so'.

“Guess I was wrong about that one. Can't win 'em all, eh?”

“You're awfully casual about our failed love, you know,” Louis points out, turning toward Harry with his eyebrows raised.

Harry smiles, shaking his head, and takes the cigarette from between Louis' fingers.

“Wasn't the love that failed,” he says. He takes a drag from the cigarette himself and blows out the smoke before leaning in to brush his lips against Louis'.

As he pulls back, Louis can't help but smile softly at that because it's true. They may have fucked up a lot of things, but they never fucked that up. They never forgot to love each other.

*****

When Louis gets the job, he's absolutely elated. He always imagines being a bartender is a bit glamorous, with the free booze and the cute drunk boys and the general mayhem that comes with a noisy local on a Saturday night.

His first day, the bar owner, Mike, meets him at the door an hour before opening. Inside, he walks them down a short hallway into the bar area where Louis sees a young bloke no older than himself sitting on the bartop, legs dangling below him.

“This is Harry. He'll be training you a bit before we open.”

Louis nods at Harry and wonders if tending bar is a side job for this lad, wonders if he's a model by day because he's too pretty with his messy curls and sparkling eyes and long, lean body, far too pretty to be hidden away in the shadows of a dingy bar.

“Harry, this is Louis. Show him the ropes and let him watch once we're open, alright?” Harry nods. “Louis, you can get out of here around seven, before the rush starts.”

“Alright,” Louis nods as Mike turns and leaves, locking Harry and Louis inside the quiet space.

Harry jumps down off the counter and saunters up to Louis, sticking out his hand.

“Hello, Louis,” he says, his green eyes twinkling.

“Nice to meet you,” Louis responds, hoping his palm isn't as sweaty as it feels.

They shake hands but Harry doesn't let go after a proper three seconds; he holds on and peers thoughtfully into Louis' eyes before slowly smiling and leaning in.

“I'm quite sure I'm going to fall in love with you.”

And then he releases Louis' hand, still smiling, and beckons Louis around to the back of the bar as if that wasn't a strange or insanely forward thing to say, as if he didn't say anything at all. And, somehow, as Louis follows him around the counter and Harry shows him a checklist of cleaning and maintenance that needs to be done nightly, it really isn't all that strange.

Harry is going to fall in love with him. It's just a thing.

What Louis doesn't yet know is that he's going to fall in love with Harry, too.

\---

“Fucking faggot!”

It's been a week at the job and Louis is doing alright. He can't quite work alone, but he can mix most drinks without using the book of cocktail recipes under the bar and he can run the cash register like a pro. But one thing he hasn't been tested with yet is an unruly drunk. Not until now.

“Alright,” Harry sighs, stepping in front of Louis casually. “Time to go, mate.”

“I'm not leaving until this faggot gives me the beer I ordered,” the guy says, glaring hard at Louis.

And Louis isn't really the type to let slurs get under his skin, but the bloke is big and pissed and Louis takes a step back.

“Listen, mate. If you want to call someone a faggot, you can direct that at the homosexual man standing in front of you,” Harry says, stepping forward, right up against the bar until Louis can't see the drunk anymore. “And he said no because you can barely stand up straight, so you need to stagger your way to that door over there and find yourself a cab home.”

Louis almost smiles as he watches Harry talk to the man because it's so easy for him and pretty soon he has him stammering and turning toward the door without a single threatening word.

When he's gone, Harry turns to face Louis, eyebrows raised.

“You okay?”

And, yeah, he is okay, so he smiles and nods and Harry smiles, too, pinching Louis' elbow as he goes back to stocking the liquor bottles.

Later, when Louis has closed the door behind the last customer, Harry steps up behind him where he's putting away pint glasses. He drops his hands onto Louis' hips, speaking softly into his hair.

“Got verbally assaulted by your first customer tonight. You're a real bartender now, congratulations.”

“Thanks?” Louis laughs uncertainly, trying not to lean into the warm touch.

“Can I ask you something?” He asks, nosing at Louis' head.

“Sure,” Louis says, trying to sound casual, but the truth is he has an incredibly attractive man pressed lightly against his back and he has large hands splayed over the curve of his hips and he's out of pint glasses to keep his hands busy.

“Are you gay?”

And Louis almost laughs at that because his sexuality hasn't been questioned since he was fourteen.

“Er, yeah. I'm definitely gay.”

“Okay, just checking.”

“Checking?”

“Yeah, remember the first thing I said to you?”

Louis freezes because of course he remembers, but he was starting to think he'd imagined it or something.

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Yeah, well, I don't want to fall in love with a straight boy. Always messy, that is.”

And then Louis feels Harry's teeth nip softly at his skin between his neck and his shoulder before he steps back, heading off to wipe down the tables. Louis can only wonder what he's in for because this lad is like no other Louis has ever met.

\---

As they continue working together, Louis starts drawing out the closing tasks, trying to slow the process down because it's his favourite time. He loves being alone with Harry in the dark bar, laughing and talking; he loves how comfortable it's begun to feel.

Within a few weeks of starting the job, Harry has become a really good friend, actually, someone he enjoys spending time with more than most people. They text sometimes, after they've gotten home, and there's always an air of flirtatiousness in the words on the screen of his phone. Or at least Louis thinks there is. Maybe he's imagining it.

But this _is_ the boy who told him he would fall in love with him, so Louis is pretty sure he's not imagining it.

As they close down the bar after a hectic Saturday night, Louis pours himself a shot of vodka because the crowd was fucking mad and he's still tense.

“Employee theft,” Harry sighs dramatically next to him. “Might have to report you.”

Louis wordlessly pulls a fiver from his pocket and holds it out as he throws the alcohol back, feeling better with the promise of an imminent buzz sliding down his throat. He nods to himself as he finishes it, still holding up the note, looking to where Harry has an odd expression; a small smile, but sort of like he's hiding something.

“Keep it,” Harry says, the odd expression disappearing as his eyes twinkle again. “You needed it.”

Louis feels a large hand cupping his lower back for just a moment as Harry moves around him and he stuffs the money back in his pocket, his eyes following Harry's back as he walks away. He's a curious one, Harry is.

Louis' buzz warms through his body slowly and it's not enough to get him tipsy, but just enough to make him feel calmer, relaxed. He moves through his tasks slowly, chatting with Harry about the obnoxiously drunk customers of the night and the last episode of X Factor and the last films they saw.

It's fun and Louis feels happy and silly and he spontaneously shoves a wet rag down the back of Harry's trousers for no real reason, then runs through the bar as Harry chases him, laughter filling the room. Harry gives up first and throws the wet rag at Louis from where he's leaning against the counter, breathing heavily.

Somehow they end up sitting on the bartop when everything's been cleaned until it's shiny and they talk some more until Harry's eyelids are drooping and Louis thinks he looks like a sleepy kitten, all soft and fuzzy and cute. He's cute, he really is.

“Alright, off to bed with you,” Louis says loudly, hopping down and tugging at Harry's arm.

Harry pouts, whining, “'m having fun here."

Louis doesn't fall for it, doesn't blush at all as he rolls his eyes and tugs Harry more forcefully until he slides clumsily down off the bar himself.

“You're too much, Harry Styles,” he half-sighs, half-mumbles, so quietly that he's not sure Harry even hears him.

When he gets back to his flat after saying goodnight and driving the few minutes home, he walks inside to find Niall on his couch in his boxers and a tank top, watching The Dark Knight. He would be shocked, probably should be, but he's pretty used to this sort of behaviour from his best mate.

“The fuck are you doing here?” He asks tiredly, dropping his keys and wallet on the kitchen counter before he goes to plop down next to Niall.

“Couldn't sleep. Got an urge to watch this, but you borrowed my copy, so.”

He doesn't continue and he doesn't look up from the screen as Louis snuggles up to him, resting his head on the lad's bony shoulder. They watch quietly for a bit before Niall speaks again, like he's shaking himself out of a daze.

“Why were you so late? Thought you got home around three usually.”

Louis glances up at the clock, seeing that it's past 4:30 now. He smiles softly to himself, thinking about Harry's droopy eyes and sleepy grins.

“Got caught up with something,” he mumbles through his smile, feeling like a teenage girl with a crush.

Niall snorts, then pauses thoughtfully. “Don't smell like sex,” he says slowly. “Must've been a blowjob or something, eh?”

Louis gasps, offended, and swats at Niall's chest. “Why does it have to be sex?” He asks, mock-outraged.

“What the fuck else would it be?” Niall asks flatly, eyes trained on the telly screen.

Louis huffs from his spot on Niall's shoulder, muttering “wanker” and letting his eyes fall shut. He thinks about it, about telling Niall, but he realises he'd end up _sounding_ like a teenage girl, too, and decides against it. His mouth apparently isn't aware of that decision, though.

“There's a guy,” he says, screaming at himself even as he says it to just _shut up_. “Coworker, I mean.”

“Did he blow you then? Was I right?”

“No,” Louis says defiantly, but he keeps his mouth shut beyond that.

“Oh, that's right,” Niall says, and Louis can hear the smile in his voice. “You like to do the blowing, don't you?”

Louis knows exactly what he's referring to and swats him again, frowning. And cringing, too, definitely cringing because he hates thinking about that night so long ago when he was drunk and needy and practically begged Niall until he let Louis suck him off.

“I believe you agreed never to mention that again.”

Niall kisses the top of his head, wrapping his arm snugly around Louis' shoulder because he knows. He knows how horrified Louis is thinking back to that night.

“Sorry, perfect opportunity,” he says, giving Louis a quick squeeze. “So, tell me about the boy then.”

Louis sighs, dropping down to rest his head on Niall's lap and sprawling his legs along the length of the couch. He gazes at the telly, but he's not really watching it.

“It's late,” he says softly. He's still thinking about the annoyingly cute drooping eyes and sleepy grins, wondering if Harry's asleep now, wondering what he looks like. “Another night, maybe.”

“Shit,” Niall mutters above him, hesitating before lowering his voice even more. “Here we go.”

Louis sighs once more, turning his head to look up into Niall's tired face.

“It's just a little crush. Don't worry.”

Niall doesn't look convinced, though, shaking his head. “I know that face, Lou. You have a thing.”

Louis gives him a petulant huff as he heaves himself up off the couch. “It's late. Come cuddle me to sleep,” he says, holding out his hand.

In bed, Louis buries his face in Niall's shoulder as he falls asleep and he blocks everything else out of his mind because it's just a little crush. Harry's just fit and nice and he makes Louis laugh. There's no reason for that to turn into more than just a little crush.

\---

“You've never done a body shot?!” Harry asks loudly in the quiet bar after closing time.

They've both tasted a few drinks throughout the night and they're laughing loudly as they work. When Harry had told him about the time he had to kick some people out for getting a bit too excited with their body shots, Louis had confessed that he's never done one.

“Never. Never done one, never had one done off of me,” Louis replies, laughing at the shock on Harry's face. It's not _that_ unbelievable.

Harry has his hand around the neck of a bottle of tequila in a flash, holding it up.

“Which way do you want to do this?” Harry asks before quickly shaking his head. “You know what, fuck it, no, you have to do both.”

“Oh, I _have_ to?” Louis asks, eyebrows raised.

“Get your cute arse up on this bar, Tomlinson,” Harry says, patting the wood surface.

Louis stares, hands on hips, as Harry waits more or less patiently. And, as he finally takes a step forward, he thinks this is a really bad idea. Really, really, bad. But he stretches out on the bar anyway and lets Harry push his shirt halfway up his stomach, revealing his bronze skin.

“Gonna do it here,” Harry says, running his fingers over the dip in Louis' hip just above where the bone juts out, tugging the waistband of his jeans down a little to uncover the area. “Okay?” He asks, looking up at Louis.

“Yeah, okay,” Louis says quietly. And when did it get so quiet, he wonders, because he can practically hear his own heartbeat as Harry hovers over him, pulling the cork out of the tequila bottle.

He leans in closer until Louis can feel breath on his hip and then he's pouring the liquor and Louis can feel it, wet and cool against his skin, before he feels a warm mouth on him. He looks down to see Harry lapping up the alcohol, humming happily as his tongue licks away the liquid and Louis has to fight to stay silent because his instinct when incredibly attractive boys lick his hips is to moan.

Louis is grateful when Harry pulls away because his excitement at the feeling is about to become visible and he's not sure if sporting a stiffy is improper body shot etiquette or if it's just a given. And Harry's smiling down at Louis, sort of like he knows exactly what he's doing to him and Louis wants to slap him across his stupid, incredibly attractive face, just a little bit.

When Harry climbs up to take his place, he lifts his own shirt and runs his fingers over his abdomen, finding a similar dip in his skin near his v-line. He pushes his jeans down far enough that Louis can tell he must shave down there and he rubs his fingers lightly over the spot, looking up at Louis.

“Do it here,” he says quietly, still so quiet, and Louis nods, focusing on the spot as Harry moves his hand away.

He moves in close before he pours, concerned that he's going to spill it everywhere, which he does, but his mouth is right there to catch most of it, sucking the liquid away from Harry's skin. He doesn't even think about the fact that he's sucking on Harry's hip until the liquid is mostly gone and he's just licking away the remaining stickiness. Then, he becomes completely aware that his mouth is on Harry's skin, very close to his dick, and he suspects his own erection is not disappearing at this point.

“You did really well,” Harry says roughly, while Louis' tongue is still lapping at the skin.

Louis looks up through his lashes and sees darkened green eyes watching him and he decides this is probably the appropriate time to pull away. So, he bites Harry's hip playfully in an attempt to keep the air light, then steps back.

“Thanks.”

When Harry adjusts his clothing and hops down off the bar, he silently goes over to the cash register to start counting down the till and Louis is left to clean the glassware in confusion. Because what was the point of that? To sexually frustrate him? To confuse him? Louis isn't sure, but then he hears Harry close the cash drawer loudly behind him and, before he can turn his head to look, Harry's spinning him around and pushing him back against the bar.

“I'm going to kiss you in ten seconds and if you don't want me to, tell me now.”

His voice is soft in contrast to his movements and Louis' got a pint glass in his hand between them and this lad really is very, incredibly attractive.

But, the thing is, it's not just that he's attractive. He's seen his fair share of attractive men and this is something else entirely. It's not just the shade of green in his eyes, it's the kindness behind them, the light. It's not just the texture of his hair, it's the way he fusses with it when he's anxious. It's not just the dimple in his cheek, it's the fact that Louis sees it so often because the lad is almost always smiling. He's this person who says what he means maybe more than he should, this person who can talk a drunkard out of a bar instead of dragging him out and-

Apparently his ten seconds are up because there are lips on his now and fucking fireworks exploding behind his eyes and Louis wonders what he missed during those ten seconds while he was deciding that Harry would not be the only one falling in love here.

\---

“How exactly do you see this dating thing working?” Louis asks a couple weeks later, eyebrows raised, from the stool he's perched on, watching Harry finish up the last of the closing tasks. “Do you remember the last time at least one of us wasn't working until three in the morning?”

Louis does enjoy these nights most, though, when it's not just one but both of them working until three in the morning. Honestly, his tips aren't as good when he works with Harry because they get each other a bit distracted and he can't outright flirt in front of the customers because a large portion of the clientelle wouldn't be pleased to see their two male bartenders groping each other's arses. So, Louis always finds himself trying to control his smiles, to keep his hands to himself, and he's too closed off to charm the patrons the way he can when Harry's not around.

“And, what, you're a vampire who can't go out during the day?”

Louis has honestly never been on a proper daytime date so he didn't really think about that option. “Maybe I am,” he says pompously, jutting his chin out.

“Well, then, I guess we'll have to stay in, won't we? Wonder what we could do stuck inside all day.”

Louis throws a straw at Harry, who's doing that fake deep thinking thing, with his finger scratching his chin, but the straw falls far short of its target. Harry laughs and leans over the bar, kissing a smile into Louis' lips and Louis hums happily in response.

“Mmm, can it involve kissing? I quite like the kissing.”

“Lucky for you, dating traditionally comes with quite a lot of kissing,” Harry says, pulling away and picking up his messenger bag from the floor.

Louis stands as Harry comes around the bar, ready to leave, and as they walk out the door, Harry casually reaches over and grabs Louis' hand, holding it in his own. It's a little gesture, a tiny thing, but it sort of squeezes the air out of Louis' lungs.

“Hey,” he says softly, stopping outside the door, pulling Harry back by the hand.

And Harry turns back, his eyebrows raised expectantly, shadows falling over his face.

“I need to say something,” Louis says softly.

There's an electrical hum in the air from the streetlights and it seems to be the only sound in the air, just that constant buzz and Louis' rapid heartbeat.

“Say something then,” Harry offers, waiting patiently.

“I'm shit at relationships, Harry,” he blurts out. “So shit at them, always manage to ruin them, and I don't want to ruin this, but I feel like this is heading toward relationship territory, you know, eventually, and I really don't want to mess it up.”

Louis is nervous, chewing on the inside of his cheek, but Harry just smiles softly, happily.

“Well, I'm good at relationships,” Harry says, shrugging. “I'll be good enough at it for both of us.”

And, well. What is he supposed to say to that? Harry seems so unconcerned, so ready to fix any mess Louis makes, and it's a bit intimidating.

“What if you can't be though?”

He feels a light squeeze on his hand and warm breath on his cheek as Harry leans in, the soft orange glow of the overhead lights making the deserted street seem like it's not really attached to the real world at all, like they're galaxies away from civilization.

“I will be.”

He sounds so sure of himself that Louis actually starts to believe it.

\---

Their first actual date is lunch at a quiet cafe the next week. It's raining when Harry picks Louis up but the weather does nothing to dampen his mood. He's spent 30 minutes getting his hair just right and he's got on his favourite pair of jeans; crisp, dark denim that hugs his hips closely without being skintight. He feels good and Harry's smile when he steps out of his flat and under the umbrella makes all the prep time worth it.

"Hey," Harry greets fondly, pulling Louis close under the umbrella.

Louis smiles, repeating the greeting as he pushes himself up to kiss Harry and he wonders briefly what the point of dating is. They know each other by now, know the little details of each other's lives that are meant to be gleaned from dating and Louis would really like to just drag Harry inside and into his bed.

But he lets Harry take his hand and lead him to his car anyway, deciding that an afternoon of talking to Harry and learning more of his details will be better than most afternoons he's had anyway.

Lunch is delicious and Harry grazes his knuckles against Louis' no fewer than a dozen times and it's obnoxiously perfect, really. Everything is so easy with Harry, always has been, and Louis may be shit at relationships but he's good at this. He's good at sitting here in this cozy cafe and listening to Harry talk about the last book he read and smiling along as if he knows exactly what he's talking about. So, basically, he's good at being smitten.

"You don't like olives," Louis says when Harry pauses, knuckles gliding over his own, fingers dipping into the slots between Louis' fingers.

"I don't," he says, not even looking down at his plate, where he's pushed the olives to the side.

Louis grins and stabs one of Harry's olives onto his fork, popping it into his mouth.

"Good. I'll eat all of your olives."

Harry scrunches his nose, then pushes himself up to lean across the table, pressing his lips against Louis' cheek and Louis tries not to think about how well they fit. They slot together as perfectly as their fingers, slipping between each other's gaps. It makes his heart race a little and he can't tell if it's a good feeling or anxiety or both.

“Not gonna kiss you if you taste all olive-y,” Harry says, leaning back into his seat.

“Maybe not on the lips,” Louis replies, wiggling his eyebrows.

And as Harry laughs at that, his eyes lighting up with it, Louis thinks again that it's so easy. It's easy to be happy with Harry and, yeah, he feels a bit anxious about where they're heading, but he enjoys this while he has it, while he can.

\---

“We should go to the zoo!” Harry exclaims behind the bar, seemingly from nowhere. “Shit, can we? I haven't been in ages!”

Louis looks up from where he's sweeping under a table and glances around the room because he has no idea where that idea came from.

“Okay,” He says unsurely. “Okay, we could go to the zoo?”

“Yeah, let's,” Harry says, smiling and nodding, before going back to putting away clean glasses.

Louis doesn't always understand Harry but, even when he doesn't, Louis can't help but find him disgustingly endearing. He smiles to himself, quirking his head to the side and resting his chin on the broom handle as he watches the lad bop around happily. He waits a long moment before he asks.

“Can I ask where that little outburst came from, babe?” Louis asks, vaguely amused.

“Thinking of date ideas,” he says casually, with his back turned as he grabs more glasses from the dishwasher. “I want to take you on many, many dates.”

When he turns toward Louis, he's got a bright smile on his face and he winks before putting the glasses up. Louis sighs and drops the broom to the floor, walking determinedly around the bar and he pulls Harry in by the shirt, kissing him firmly. Just as quickly, he pushes him back, looking up at where Harry is surprised, but smiling.

“You're so fucking cute,” he says, like he's disgusted. Which he is. Disgustingly endearing, that's Harry.

When he goes to turn away again, Harry reaches out and pulls him back by the waist, pressing his chest into Louis' back and he holds him there, kissing Louis' neck.

“Well, then, we make the perfect pair, don't we? Because you're pretty fucking cute, too.”

Louis squirms, laughing, as Harry noses at his neck, then nibbles at his shoulder and, god, he's really, really happy.

“So, the zoo,” he says, his laughter dying out. “Good. And which one of these many dates includes you taking me back to your place, hmm?”

Harry hums behind his ear, pulling him in a bit closer and his thumb tucks up under Louis' shirt a bit, rubbing against his skin.

“Well, if we're doing things properly,” he says, smiling into the back of Louis' neck, “I guess that would be the third date.”

Louis wants it, wants it a lot, has wanted it since he met Harry and wants it so much more now. But Harry has been coy about it, insisting on this whole dating thing, and Louis hasn't pushed because he doesn't want to rush Harry or anything. He just wishes Harry was a little less patient.

“Did that walk the other afternoon count as a date? It seemed date-y. You held my hand. And I bought you a pretzel.”

Harry chuckles, squeezing Louis a bit, wrapping his arms further around his waist.

“Yeah, I think that was a date.”

Louis feels good with Harry wrapped around him like this and he leans back into his chest, smiling. Harry's thumb slides over his hip now, just grazing his skin lightly. It feels so nice and Louis wants more of Harry on more of him. He just wants more.

“We have wine here,” he says, dropping his head back on Harry's shoulder. “I could bring up Netflix on my phone and we could watch a film and drink wine. That would be a date, right?”

Harry doesn't respond right away and Louis is all set to pout when he feels Harry's nose nudging his cheek. He turns his head, leaning to the side so Harry can kiss him and Louis is happy again, really happy. The kiss doesn't last long before Harry pulls back and drops his chin on Louis' shoulder again.

“I want a proper third date. I want the zoo.”

Louis rolls his eyes and throws his elbow back, gently bumping Harry's ribs.

“Why are you so bloody proper anyway?”

Harry kisses his neck, then releases his hold, spinning Louis around until they're face to face. Before Louis can kiss him, he's pulled into an embrace and Harry's chin is on his shoulder again.

“I don't let boys I really fancy fuck me until I know they're interested in more than that,” he says quietly, words muffled by Louis' shoulder.

Louis thinks it should be fairly obvious by now that he's interested in more than that, but Harry keeps speaking before he can say as much.

“I used to. Didn't always work out so well, so I'm a little more careful now. And the thing is, Louis, I _really_ like you. If I had sex with you the first time I really wanted to or after our first date or even tonight, and then you blew me off, I'd be, like-” he stops for a moment, just silent for a bit before he shakes his head and kisses Louis' neck again. “You know,” he mumbles, giving Louis a squeeze.

Louis is a massive tit. This time, he says as much.

“I'm a massive tit.”

Harry laughs and pulls back so Louis can see his face, those same sparkling eyes smiling down at him, and he shakes his head.

“You're not, babe,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss to Louis' frowning lips. “A massive tit would have given up after I didn't put out on our first date.”

Louis frowns some more because he doesn't want Harry to think that's what this is.

“I really like you, Harry,” he stresses. “If I've made you think I'm anything less than interested in more than sex with you-”

“Lou, shut up,” Harry says, smiling, and kisses him once again. “You haven't, babe. I just like to be careful and take that aspect of things slowly because I can't really control how slowly I take the other parts, you know?”

Louis leans back and tilts his head to the side curiously. “The other parts?”

Harry nods, biting at the inside of his cheek. He hesitates for a long while and Louis is starting to feel nervous when Harry finally speaks.

“I _really_ like you,” he says softly. “Like, more every day. I can't control that part.”

Louis' chest feels tight, but he ignores it, pushing his lips into Harry's because, no, he can't control that part either. Wouldn't it be nice if he could, he thinks.

\---

Louis drops back against the bed, lungs working hard to grasp at the oxygen in the air, and he finally looks around the shadowy room, not having seen much of it when he was carried in an hour earlier, fingers tearing at his own clothing to get it off. His hand instinctively moves to touch Harry's side, always wanting to touch, as his eyes scan the dark space, taking it in.

“You have actual art on your walls,” he says around his laboured breathing, fingers curling against Harry's skin. “Like, paintings.”

Harry's laugh next to him is low and husky and tinged with roughness from Louis' cock pressing into his throat earlier. It's possibly the sexiest thing Louis has ever heard.

“I have art, yeah.”

Louis doesn't really know how he got here. How he ended up in this boy's bed, this boy who reads actual books and has actual art on his bedroom walls. He shakes his head to himself, letting his eyes close as he focuses on getting his breath back, pressing his thumb into Harry's hip just to make sure he's still there and he's still real.

“You're so beautiful.”

It's whispered through the air and Louis drags his eyelids up again to find Harry studying him, his eyes tracing the curve of his jaw and the line of his lips, almost like Louis is actually the art here. He shakes his head again, shifting onto his side to get a proper angle to kiss him, this art-loving tosser of a boy.

“Shut up,” he whispers into the kiss, keeping his lips light against Harry's, not wanting to lose his breath again now that he's almost found it.

And, as they kiss, Louis starts to feel a little anxious because he thinks it's hitting him already, fondness and attraction turning to something else, settling deep in his chest where he can't push it away or pretend it's not there. It's constant, the feeling, and growing stronger every day.

\---

When Louis finally leaves Harry's flat to let him get ready for work, he comes home to Niall on his couch yet again and makes a note to take his key back or start demanding help with the rent.

“Hey, where've you been?”

“Harry's,” Louis says, dropping his keys and heading into the kitchen for a bag of crisps.

He brings the bag to the couch and rips it open and he's doing absolutely nothing differently. Nothing is strange about the way he's eating the crisps or the way he's sitting or anything, but Niall is looking at him with his head cocked to the side like he's trying to figure something out.

“You're being weird,” Niall says, with a thoughtful glance before shrugging and turning to the telly.

“I'm not!” Louis insists because he's not, he really isn't.

Except that everything feels light because he's just finally, _finally_ fucked the boy he's been wanting to fuck for ages and it's not just that. It's that Louis fell asleep with Harry pressed up against his back and long fingers lightly tracing his ribs. It's that he woke up to sleepy giggles and hoarse whispers and lips pressing kisses down his spine.

It's that they snogged for fucking _hours_ and Louis has never had a first time be so good. It's always a little awkward the first time but this wasn't awkward at all. This was like they just knew where to go and what to do because they _know_ each other now. And that's as amazing as it is terrifying.

“Alright, spill. You're freaking me out,” Niall says, pulling the bag of crisps toward him to take a handful.

Louis rolls his eyes to himself because he's really not being weird. He's just happy.

“We had sex, okay?” He says sharply, then turns to the telly himself, if only to avoid Niall's gaze.

“But you've- you've done that before, right? Like, haven't you been doing that all along?”

Louis tips his face to glare at Niall and Niall's eyebrows shoot up so fast Louis thinks it must hurt.

“You've never fucked him? Seriously?” He practically yells, looking like a kid at Christmas. “How long has it been? Oh my god, I just thought you didn't want to talk about it or something.”

“I _don't_.”

“No, you- wow. Louis, shit, you're fuckin' gone for him, aren't you?”

Louis sighs, shaking his head. This is exactly why he should never tell anyone anything ever again. They get silly ideas.

“I fancy him, yeah, whatever,” he says shortly, not wanting to draw the conversation out.

Unfortunately, his face betrays him as he smiles a bit against his will and he wants to hit himself for not controlling his muscles better. Niall just grins happily next to him, leaning over to card through Louis' hair.

“Fuckin' gone, mate, I'm tellin' ya,” he says, taking his hand back. “So, how was it? Was it fireworks and all that? Choir of angels?”

Louis has never been big on sharing the intimate details of his sex life, even with Niall, but he's not prude or anything. He says enough. This time, though, it's like he doesn't even know how to describe it without sounding like a sappy twat.

“It was very good,” he replies carefully, trying to control his smile. “Fireworks and choirs and all that, yeah.”

“And you stayed all day? Did he make you breakfast? Please tell me he made you breakfast.”

Louis laughs lightly at that because Niall is such a teenage girl sometimes, gets excited about the little things like that and it's actually rather sweet.

“He did,” Louis says, nodding, thinking about Harry walking into the room in those low-slung joggers with a platter of toast and bacon and in his hands.

“Aw,” Niall says, tipping his head to the side. “Your boyfriend is such a gentleman.”

“He's not my boyfriend,” Louis insists. “He's my- my person that I'm dating. And working with. And sleeping with. His role is very complicated, but boyfriend is not one of his many hats.”

Niall shakes his head, rolling his eyes, but he doesn't say another thing about it as he pulls Louis under his arm and grabs another handful of crisps.

\---

Two weeks later, Louis is peppering kisses over Harry's thighs, down to his knees, hiking them up just enough so he can kiss the sensitive skin behind them. He loves this, loves kissing every bit of Harry he can reach because the boy is too beautiful not to. His skin begs to be kissed.

The buzzing of a phone interrupts the moment and Harry throws his hand down to grab it, answering.

“Hello?” He says gruffly, and Louis wonders if the person on the other end can hear the breathlessness or if Louis only notices it because he's kissing across Harry's skin and he _knows_.

“Li, is this important?” He asks, reaching down to stroke his thumb over Louis' hand where it's resting on his thigh, almost like he's encouraging him not to stop.

And Louis is perfectly okay with not stopping, so he moves to Harry's other leg and presses his lips into Harry's inner thigh over and over.

“Li-... Liam-... Li, I-...”

Louis puffs out a laugh over Harry's skin because Harry's getting frustrated, obviously getting interrupted on the other end and Louis bites gently at the soft, pale skin of Harry's thigh, eliciting a small moan before Harry finally snaps into the phone.

“Li, could we talk about your sodding lecture later? I've got my boyfriend between my legs and I'd really like to be focusing on that right now.”

Louis only panics a little, to be fair. He bites his lip, pressing his face into Harry's thigh, and he forces the anxiousness down because Harry's never called him his boyfriend before. They've never even talked about it, about what they are, but apparently they slid into boyfriend territory at some point and Louis hadn't even really noticed.

And it's not like he doesn't want that, it's just that the term comes with other things and Louis is nervous about those things, doesn't know how he'll react to them. It's that Harry finds it so easy to say, like it's nothing, and Louis is just trying to force himself to breathe normally.

“Hey, why'd you stop kissing?” Harry pouts above him and Louis realises he must have ended the call while Louis was trying not to freak out.

Louis buries his face into Harry's thigh more because he's not quite finished panicking and he needs a minute. “Boyfriend,” he says simply, voice muffled by Harry's skin.

It's silent for a long moment and Louis' worried that his panic is hurting Harry and he doesn't want that so he finally turns his head, laying it on Harry's thigh so he can look at him. But Harry doesn't look hurt. More like nervous.

“Is that okay?” He asks, tilting his head.

A hand hesitantly covers Louis', fingers dropping gently over his own, and he takes a deep breath. Is it okay? He squeezes Harry's hand, feeling some of the weight lift off his chest.

“Okay,” he answers slowly, whispering the word against Harry's leg.

Harry pauses for a second before he grins, like he can't help it, and he lunges down, pulling Louis up until he's lying flat on top of him, their bodies pressed together at every point.

“Promise?” Harry asks when Louis' face is hovering over his.

Louis still feels a little shaky as he looks down at Harry, thinking 'this is my boyfriend that I'm lying on top of, this is my boyfriend's face and his mouth and that's my boyfriend's voice asking me if I'm really okay with him being my boyfriend'. But despite the shakiness, he nods, kissing Harry softly, then pulls back to look into his ridiculously bright eyes.

“Promise,” he whispers, but he has to say it. “Just go slow, okay? I scare easy.”

Harry agrees, whispering a “yeah” into Louis' lips before they push together, kissing. And no one pulls away this time, Harry just rolls them until he's hovering over Louis.

That day, Louis gets the best blowjob he's ever gotten.

From his boyfriend.

\---

When Louis has a night off, he calls Niall and whines that he's all alone and Niall tells him to meet him at their favourite pizza place in ten minutes. When Louis gets there, Niall's already paying, taking the large box from the guy behind the counter, and Louis has no idea how he's managed that so quickly.

“Can't you wait?” Louis asks sharply, looking at his friend as they walk back toward his flat. “People are staring. You're like an animal.”

Niall's got the pizza box in one hand and a slice in the other and he's walking and eating and it's absolutely disgusting.

“Shut up, I missed lunch,” Niall replies, mouth full.

“Can you just walk a few paces behind me so it doesn't look like I'm with you?”

Niall throws his elbow out, knocking Louis' arm and Louis grumbles, looking ahead.

“Oh come on, mate. I got olives just for you.”

Louis stuffs his hands deep in his pockets, thinking about the fact that Harry doesn't like olives, and a little smile plays at his lips as he looks down at the sidewalk ahead of him. He wonders if Harry would get olives on half of the pizza for him and he thinks he probably would because that's just who he is.

“You have a look,” Niall says around the crust in his mouth. “It's not quite your happily fucked look, so I'm guessing it's your my-really-fit-boyfriend-slash-coworker-did-something-cute look.”

Louis glares at him and immediately decides he needs a new best mate because Niall really knows him too well. It's annoying.

“He hates olives,” he mutters, kicking at Niall's shin as he walks.

Niall just stares at him like there's some punchline coming and, when it doesn't, he shakes his head to himself, then throws his arm around Louis' neck. Louis releases a noise of disapproval at the greasy fingers touching his jacket, but it wouldn't be the first item of his clothing Niall's ruined.

“Have you told him yet? Or even admitted it to yourself?”

“What?” Louis asks, kicking a bit of rubbish aside.

“Y'know, that you're madly in love with the lad.”

Louis almost stops in his tracks, but he forces his legs to keep working. He's thought about it, yeah, but not seriously, not like he's ready to go around saying it or anything. He just- it's a thing that's happening a little bit at a time and he doesn't know if he's in it or dancing around it, but the feeling deep in his chest has settled in indefinitely.

“I'll do no such thing,” he insists, digging his hands deeper in his pockets. “I've told him I rather enjoy his company and that's enough for now, thank you.”

Niall gives him a grieved sigh, lifting his hand to mess Louis' hair and Louis squeaks loudly, batting the greasy hand away.

“Can you say it to me?” Niall asks, stopping when they get to Louis' door.

“Aww, Ni,” Louis grins, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “I love you very much and forever.”

Niall rolls his eyes and pushes Louis back by the shoulder. “Sod off, you know what I mean. Can you tell me you're in love with him?”

Louis lets the grin on his face slowly fade as he busies himself with his keys, trying to find the right one. Since starting the job at the bar, his keyring has filled up quite a bit and he can never remember which is which. He pointedly doesn't answer and Niall doesn't push as Louis finally finds the right key and gets them into the building. As they wait for the lift, his phone buzzes against his thigh and he pulls it out, reading the new text.

_work is boring without you. lidia doesn't dance for me at all. :(_

He smiles reading it and senses Niall's eyes on him as the doors open and Louis coughs, stepping inside. Just as he's about to pocket his phone, another text comes through and he looks at the screen, seeing it's from Harry again.

_come over after work tomorrow? like waking up next to you. xx_

He drops his arm, holding the phone against his leg, and he leans his head back against the wall in the lift, taking a deep breath..

“Okay, yeah, maybe I am a bit,” he says quietly.

Niall doesn't respond and Louis' grateful because he doesn't want it to be a big thing. He just wants it to be.

Long after the pizza has been finished and they've drank some beers and watched a marathon of The Simpsons, Niall kicks his leg out, nudging Louis' thigh and he looks sleepy and sated, smiling over at Louis.

“Tell him, alright?”

Louis doesn't need to ask what he means. He's just not sure he's ready.

\---

The next night, some uni students play a steady stream of thumping club songs on the juke box and Louis catches Harry's eye during a lull. He does a little body roll just to get his attention then laughs as Harry stares hungrily at Louis' hips shaking to the beat.

He keeps it up throughout the night and, by the time they lock up, Harry's clearly frustrated and Louis gets pushed up against the wall with a growl.

“We're going to get this place cleaned up in ten minutes,” he says roughly, pressing Louis firmly against the wall with his entire body. “Or we won't even make it back to my place.”

Louis loves being coy and he _loves_ getting Harry all worked up like this. It's maybe his favourite hobby.

“Yeah?” Louis asks, his voice hitching because he's got lips on his neck now. “Gonna fuck me right here?”

Harry whimpers into Louis' skin, his hips jerking forward against Louis'. He almost feels bad teasing him, but the way Harry's fingers are gripping into his shirt on his back, twisting the fabric so tightly that it hikes up, well. It's worth it.

“Stop,” he whines in a tiny voice, pulling Louis into him even harder.

Louis decides he's had enough teasing, so he noses at Harry's neck to get him to look up, finding his pupils blown and his cheeks flushed.

“Fuck cleaning,” he mutters, flicking his eyes down to Harry's lips. “Count the money and take me back to yours so I can get inside you already.” He leans in to kiss the pretty lips, then decides maybe he's not quite done teasing, whispering into them. “Put these hips to better use than dancing, yeah?”

Harry shivers and Louis grins, giving him one last kiss before pulling him toward the register so they can finish up quickly because Harry is not the only one itching to get into his bed.

\---

Louis walks into work behind Harry the next day, dropping his hand as they step in through the door. It was a night full of sweat and low, sweet moans and it's been a morning full of skin and tea and laughter and Louis feels like maybe he's floating, like his feet aren't even touching the ground.

As he steps into the shadows and neon lights of the bar, though, reality starts to seep into his dreamlike state and his mood is dragged down a little at a time until Harry finally pulls him into the storage closet around the corner by the loos and he nuzzles his neck.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” Louis replies immediately, wrapping his arms around Harry's waist.

“Your smile went away,” Harry says, pulling back to pout and Louis can't even see him in here, in the pitch black of the closet, but he knows it's there. “I love your smile. I want it back.”

Louis pushes up to find Harry's lips, wanting to know where his face is since he can't see it. He kisses him, then lets his lips rest there for a moment, breathing in the calm of Harry.

“You love my smile?” He asks, lips moving slowly against Harry's as he whispers.

“Mmm,” Harry hums back, pressing his lips into a kiss before he responds properly. “Love a lot of things about you.”

Louis smiles a bit at that, pulling Harry closer, lips pressing together in another soft kiss.

“Yeah?”

He feels hands sliding up his sides and over his shoulders, fingertips grazing up his neck and then pushing into his hair as warm breath spills across his lips. And he feels like he's back in the clouds, floating happily with Harry's hands on him, alone in the dark.

Harry's lips slide over to the corner of Louis' mouth, pressing another kiss there before he whispers, “love you.”

Louis suddenly feels breathless, fingers gripping onto Harry's shirt and there are a lot of things going through his mind at once, making his brain fuzzy, but he can only respond with one thing, the only thing, and it's so much easier to deal with here in the dark.

“Love you, too, yeah,” he whispers back, finding Harry's mouth again and kissing him properly, the way people in love ought to kiss.

And somewhere in the back of Louis' crowded mind, he is vaguely aware that he's just professed love in a dark storage closet at work and it's possibly the least romantic situation he could have dreamed up. The scent of ammonia and dirty rags sits in the air, but Harry's lips are pressing so hard into his own and the fingers in his hair are rubbing slowly and Louis realises he never really liked romance anyway.

\---

Working with Harry gets both easier and harder. It's easier because they've gotten to a point where they almost move as one, always knowing where the other is going, what they're doing and it's fluid with them. Louis is faster with Harry and, on busy nights, it's amazing how much more smoothly it goes than if he's working with Christian or Lidia.

It's harder, though, too, because he's in love with Harry. He's totally in love and he'll catch himself watching him, a little smile playing at his lips as Harry moves to pour shots or chats with the regulars while he fills beer glasses. Which is fine unless customers are trying to get his attention, waving money in his face to bring his focus back to the job.

His tips dwindle on his nights with Harry and, yeah, he loves working with him, but he finds himself privately relieved when he's working with one of the others. He feels guilty, of course, but he needs the money and he's starting to worry customers will start complaining to their boss if he keeps letting Harry pull him into the storage closet for quick snogs between rushes.

Louis sets his mind to focusing on the job, eyes scanning the faces lined up along the bar until a tall bloke catches his eye, gesturing to him. Louis saunters over, pressing his hands on the countertop to lean over the bar so he can hear him over the noise in the room.

“Three shots of Patron and three Coronas,” the man says loudly, but still barely audible over the din.

Louis nods and gets to work, pouring the shots in a flash and grabbing the bottles from the cooler under the bar. He sets the drinks down in front of the bloke who's smiling at him now and Louis recognizes flirting when he sees it. And, well, he's set on doing his job well, so he gives him a coy smile in return, reaching down to the bucket of limes. As he pushes a lime wedge into the neck of each bottle, the guy gestures for him to lean closer and Louis does, letting him speak into his ear.

“Can I buy you a shot, too?” He asks, his voice husky and smooth.

Customers like when the bartenders drink, he's realised in his time at the job, so he shrugs, picking up one of the small glasses of tequila in front of him. He's just doing his job.

“Just one, though, have to be good,” he says with a cheeky smile, remembering how good he is at this, at flirting.

The guy picks up one of the other shots and lifts it, clinking it against Louis' glass and they swallow them back at the same time. The liquor feels good sliding down Louis' throat, makes him feel warm all over. Within seconds of swallowing the liquor, the lad is pushing himself up so his lips hover right over Louis' ear, tickling his skin as he speaks.

“Let me know when you're done being good.”

Louis grins wickedly, shaking his head and moves to replace the shot he drank before taking the guy's money. And the tip he leaves really is way more than he usually gets, so he smiles happily, bouncing over to the cash register.

As he punches the order in, Harry slides up behind him, pressed into his back just a bit.

“You alright?” He asks casually, eyebrows lifting as Louis turns to see him.

“Yeah, 'course, why?” Louis asks, hands stilling on the register.

“That guy was practically tonguing your ear,” Harry says and he doesn't necessarily sound upset, but maybe sort of surprised or confused.

“No tongue penetrated my ear, promise,” he says, trying not to let himself get annoyed by the fact that Harry was watching him so closely.

“Maybe _your_ tongue can penetrate something tonight,” Harry whispers, pinching his hip and walking away.

Louis' tips suffer for the rest of the night, but after close, Harry comes home with him and Louis rims him until he's coming and, well. Louis can't complain.

\---

A couple of weeks later, Harry is spread out sideways at the foot of Louis' bed, naked as the day he was born, the sun shining in through the window and hitting his skin.

Louis is staring. He can't help it. He's seen Harry naked quite a bit at this point, practically memorized every curve of his body, but right now he looks like a fucking angel with the sun creating a golden glow around him. Louis is happy to sit in the shadows and just watch.

“Stop staring, you pervert,” Harry mumbles, eyes still closed.

His lips twitch up into a little half smile and Louis sighs, still staring. He loves these lazy mornings they get to spend together when they've got nothing to do but lounge about, more or less clothed, and just be.

Louis unfolds his leg and stretches it out, pushing his toes into Harry's side, a little smile playing at his own lips. “If you insist on being naked, I insist on staring.”

He thinks that's reasonable enough anyway. Harry huffs out a laugh and finally turns his head toward Louis, eyes opening slowly as they adjust to the light. He grabs Louis' foot where it's digging into his ribs and brings it up to his mouth, biting his big toe once and making a growling cat noise as he does, sounding more like a petulant kitten than a ferocious beast.

“You're such an idiot,” Louis says fondly, pulling his leg back into him.

Harry grins sleepily and reaches out for Louis' leg again, fingers grazing his knee.

“Your idiot,” he says and Louis can't tell if he's being sarcastically sappy or just sappy.

Before Louis can respond, his phone buzzes next to him and he picks it up to see that it's his mum. He doesn't really want to talk to her with Harry there, doesn't like his worlds colliding, so he hits ignore and drops the phone back down.

“Who's that?” Harry asks, thumb sliding back and forth over the skin of Louis' knee.

“Mum,” Louis answers, pushing his leg out once again, closing his eyes and smiling as Harry slides his palm down his leg.

“Could've answered, you know,” he says, leaning down to kiss Louis' ankle. “I could bugger off to the kitchen if it's private.”

“'S not private. Just busy right now,” Louis says quietly, soaking in the calmness of the morning, the feeling of Harry's fingers dancing over his leg.

After a long silent moment, Harry's hand pauses before he speaks thoughtfully. “I'd like to meet her.”

That all but destroys the calm, but Louis tries not to react, keeping his eyes shut and his body still. He doesn't like his worlds colliding. His mum doesn't even know he's seeing someone.

Harry doesn't seem to notice that Louis has gone rigid, fingers moving over Louis' ankle now as he speaks again. “Maybe we could take a little trip up there someday. I want to see where you grew up.”

And Louis knows it's not a big deal for Harry to be saying these things, but it feels big to Louis. It feels fucking scary.

“Maybe. Someday,” he forces out if only because that's what proper boyfriends say.

But he's on edge and he thinks Harry's noticing now because he crawls up the bed, lining himself up next to Louis and he's biting at the inside of his cheek the way he does when he's nervous.

“I just- I want to know everything there is to know about you, you know?”

His voice is soft, almost sad, and Louis swallows heavily.

“Yeah,” he says, nodding like he's trying to convince himself that it's not a big deal.

“Yeah,” Harry whispers, an octave lower, before dropping his hand to graze over Louis' pyjama bottoms, palming gently at his cock.

Louis' a bit taken aback, but he slowly drops his head back and lets Harry rub him until he can feel the tension in his body releasing, being replaced by something else.

When Harry's riding him a little while later, slowly grinding his arse down into Louis' hips, their hands clasped on Louis' stomach, Louis has all but forgotten about his little flash of panic. In that moment, he can let it all go and focus only on the two of them and nothing else. He can breathe.

\---

Louis is closing with Christian, a young, fit lad who's even better at flirting with the patrons than Louis is, and his tips have been insane all night. They don't move in sync quite as well as he and Harry do, but Louis has been able to focus without the curly headed distraction looming around. Not that he doesn't love being distracted, but his wallet isn't as much of a fan.

Only a few minutes after they lock up, Louis hears the door opening and he's confused, sure he locked it properly. He's ready to yell that they're closed when he sees the distraction himself.

Harry smiles toward Louis as he walks up to the counter, leaning over it and kissing him in greeting. “Hey babe.”

Louis just stares back at him and he can't explain the tension gathering inside his body.

“Want me to bugger off?” Christian pipes up, glancing toward them.

Harry asks if he minds and Christian laughs because, yeah, it's such a burden leaving work early, and all the while Louis is frozen. And he doesn't really know why.

When the front door closes behind Christian, Louis snaps his head up to look at Harry and he feels the tension in him reaching a breaking point.

“Did you just come here to make sure I wasn't snogging him or something?”

“Wha-” Harry looks perplexed, but Louis continues.

“Because why else are you here at two in the morning on your night off, Harry? I swear to god, if this is a jealous thing...”

Harry's staring wide-eyed and Louis feels a bit like he's going mad, but everything is so tight and, fuck, maybe he _is_ going mad.

“You really are shit at relationships, aren't you?” Harry says, staring at him like he's got two heads before he shakes his head, sighing, “Jesus, Lou.”

All Louis can think is 'yeah, I fucking told you, didn't I?' but he keeps that to himself, wringing his hands together in front of him until Harry speaks again.

“When I say that I love you, that's not some abstract state of being that has nothing to do with you, you know? I love you because I love being around you and I love seeing you smile and hearing you laugh.” He sighs again, looking tired all of a sudden. “So, yeah, I drove all ten minutes down here at two in the morning because I couldn't sleep and I wanted to see your face and hear your voice, and I can do all that without an ulterior motive, you know. I can want to touch you without it meaning that I'm worried about someone else touching you.”

Louis feels sort of like a balloon with the air being let out of it, like the tightness is disappearing and he's crumpling right there because, god, he is _so_ shit at this. His hands are shaking now because he's simultaneously trying to pull away and trying to hold on and it's maybe more than he can handle.

Suddenly Harry is in front of him, reaching out slowly like he's afraid of scaring him and Louis looks up, searching his face.

“Are you still good enough at this for both of us?” He asks quietly, his breath shallow.

Harry finally makes contact, his fingers brushing against Louis' arm, and his eyes look a bit sad, a bit lost. “You tell me.”

Louis doesn't know, of course. He doesn't know if anyone's good enough to make Louis a decent boyfriend. He doesn't know if anyone can be good enough to compensate for how incredibly awful he is at this.

“I want you to be,” he offers, closing his eyes and reaching up to circle his arms around Harry's neck. “Fuck, I'm sorry I'm like this.”

Harry's grip on him tightens and Louis feels lips pressing into his forehead through his fringe, then moving down to kiss the tip of his nose.

“I don't want you to be upset,” he whispers, pulling Louis in and dropping his chin onto Louis' shoulder. “But I still love you, you know? No matter what.”

Louis takes a deep breath, holding onto Harry's neck, and it's always easier when it's just the two of them, just touching and whispering and Louis can relax about everything else.

“I love you, too, even if I'm terrible at the rest of this.”

\---

“Hey,” Louis whispers, dragging his lips off of Harry's. “This is your favourite film, shouldn't you be watching it?”

Harry just pushes out a little breathy hum, pulling Louis back in as the movie plays on Harry's dresser. They're in his bed and it's past four in the morning and, even with the movie playing, it's so quiet in the room. All he can really hear are the sounds of their lips pressing together in slow kisses and the occasional low hum in Harry's throat.

When Harry leans into him, Louis slowly shifts onto his back, adjusting so Harry can hover over him, and everything's so slow and quiet and dark. Louis likes this, likes taking his time.

“You taste good,” Harry whispers between kisses, before the soft, plushy flesh of his lips presses in again.

Louis is a big fan of hot, dirty, bruising sex. He likes teeth nipping at flesh and fingernails scraping over skin, but sometimes he forgets how good it can be like this. Whispered words and soft skin and a soothing warmth that Louis wants to tuck himself into forever because it's so nice, so comfortable.

He feels Harry's hand slide up his side under his shirt, gliding over the bumps of his ribs so slowly, like he's memorizing his skin. When his fingers push into to the soft hair under Louis' arm, he starts the journey back down, just as slowly, and Louis feels important like this, with Harry's hands on him.

“Remember the first thing I said to you?” Harry asks, his voice barely audible, just breath on Louis' lips.

“Yeah, always,” Louis whispers, not wanting to disturb the quiet in the air.

“Yeah,” Harry says, pulling his hand horizontally over Louis' stomach, an inch or so above his waist. “I love you.”

Louis can't help but smile softly at that, pulling back enough so he can see Harry's eyes. The hand is still moving across his stomach slowly, gently, and Louis brings his own hand up to cradle Harry's face, resting a thumb against the corner of Harry's lips. He's beautiful, he really is.

“I love you,” he whispers, nodding.

Harry's smile is gentle but his eyes are shining as he nudges against Louis' hand like a kitten and turns just enough to kiss Louis' thumb.

Dropping next to him, Harry rests his head on Louis' pillow, their chests pressed together, and they end up spending a good long while just lying there, just looking at each other with hands lazily roaming over skin and toes nudging together.

When Harry's lips wrap around his cock, the movie is over, the room completely silent, and he sucks him slowly because this seems to be a night for slow. Louis arches back, framing Harry's head with his thighs, and he even seems to come in slow motion, like it drags out for hours.

Then, when he's got Harry on his back and he has two fingers inside him, slowly pushing into the spot that Harry likes so much, he moves up to kiss his lips before pressing his parted lips to Harry's neck, his tongue lazily licking over the salty skin.

“I love you,” he whispers before he whispers it again and then once more.

“Louis,” Harry responds in a hushed plea, pushing his head back into the pillow.

Eventually, he slides down Harry's long body and he sucks him gently as his fingers rub over the right spot until Harry comes, one broken moan sounding out in the quiet.

He's really terrible at a lot of things, but he's so, so good at loving this boy.

\---

“Tell me about your friends,” Harry says, butting his forehead against Louis' shoulder.

It's been a slow night and they've been filling the downtime with idle chat and Louis is always careful about what he says when they talk, gives Harry as many details as he can without letting him get too invested. It's a fine line, but Louis has managed to walk it pretty well.

“You know about my friends,” he replies, knocking his elbow against Harry's.

“Not really. Just Niall and you haven't even really told me anything about him.”

Louis turns, leaning back against the counter next to the cash register, and props his elbows on the counter. Harry moves directly across from him, leaning back against the bar.

“You know how there are, like, B-level friends? You text sometimes and you meet up at a party once in a while and you're friends but you don't really play a significant part in each other's lives?”

Harry nods, saying “sure” and Louis smiles a bit, looking down at where their feet are almost touching, pushed out in front of them. He knocks his shoe against Harry's just because.

“All of my friends are B-level friends except for Niall,” he says, only realising now how pathetic that is. “When I say I'm shit at relationships, I don't just mean romantic ones.”

Harry hesitates for a minute, like he doesn't know what to say to that. Louis flushes, wondering if that's a bigger deal than it seems to him, if it's crazy that he only has one close mate.

“Alright,” Harry finally says, nodding. “Then tell me more about Niall.”

Louis gives him some basic details before purposely changing the direction of the conversation, asking Harry about his friends.

“I've got a few close mates,” he says with a shrug. “There's Lou and Tom, and Nick, Cal, and Ed. But I guess I'm closest to Liam and Zayn.”

Louis' eyes go wide because he's already lost count and Harry's just listing off his _close_ friends. And now he feels like an idiot.

“Oh, is that all?” He asks, eyebrows raised.

“Well, I used to have more but I had to cut some people when you came along. Not enough time.”

Louis laughs, shaking his head at the little twinkle in Harry's eye and he sighs, dropping his shoulders a bit.

“Well, let's just start with Liam and Zayn then. I can remember that.”

And, as Harry tells Louis how he met them, what they do, who they're dating, what their hobbies are, Louis listens with a certain amount of detachment. He doesn't ask many questions and he's almost relieved when a group of rowdy young men comes in the door and the conversation is cut short.

It's not that he doesn't want to know about Harry's friends. He does, but he also doesn't because knowing _about_ them is the first step toward knowing them. And he doesn't think he can handle knowing them just yet.

\---

Louis' just getting loosened up, moving his hips up and down in little increments, mind blown at how big Harry feels inside of him. It's been a while since he's let someone in like this but he's in a mood tonight and Harry had happily agreed. So, he's riding Harry's cock and just getting to the part where it feels inside-out _good_ , where he feels so incredibly full in the very best way. Harry's got a firm grip on his hips, helping him move, and Louis' mind is all but blank.

And that's when he hears the front door open through the closed bedroom door.

“Niall! Get out!” Louis immediately yells frantically, stilling his movements.

“Hey, I thought you'd be out,” he hears Niall answer curiously front the entry.

Louis wants to ask why he's here then, deciding he really does need to get his key back, but this isn't the time.

“Niall, I'm not fucking kidding. I've got a very pretty boy's cock inside me and you need to get out right now.”

Harry's eyes go wide below him, but Louis moves his hips just enough to keep them in the moment because he doesn't want to have to start all over.

There's only silence for a few seconds before Niall speaks again, slightly quieter, and Louis can imagine that he's gone even paler than usual.

“Hi, Harry. Nice to meet you.”

Louis drops his head down against Harry's chest because this is an actual nightmare. This is a nightmare.

“You- you, too, Niall,” Harry chokes out, hands gripping Louis' hips a bit harder.

“Stop it, both of you,” Louis groans loudly. “I'm going to lose my sodding erection.”

As the sound of Niall's hasty exit filters into the bedroom, Harry frowns up at Louis, grasping his cock between them.

“No, no, none of that,” he says as he strokes Louis gently. “Now fuck me proper, yeah?”

With Niall gone, Louis can only nod, lifting himself up and working his hips more firmly, dropping down onto Harry more forcefully. He studies the way Harry's eyelids flutter and fall with each movement he makes, loves how Harry looks like this.

He manages to forget about the little interaction until well after they've finished and they pad into the living room to cuddle up on the couch with cocoa. That's when Louis sees his phone where he'd left it earlier and he picks it up to see two new texts from Niall.

_so.. he seems nice.._

and then

_maybe i could actually meet the lad sometime_

Louis bursts into laughter at the first text, disregarding the second, and Harry asks him what's so funny. Without thinking, Louis displays the screen for Harry and he laughs, too, blushing a little. Louis shakes his head and sets his phone down, blowing steam off his cocoa.

“We should have dinner or something,” Harry says casually, taking a sip of his cocoa. “It's weird that I haven't met him, don't you think?”

Louis grits his teeth because _of course_ Harry picked that up and _of course_ he's going there. And, yeah, maybe it's a bit weird. Who knows. But Niall is Louis' friend, not Harry's, and there's no reason for that to change. They don't have to share everything.

“I'd rather not just yet,” he replies honestly because why the fuck not, he thinks. May as well just say it.

Harry's quiet for a bit and Louis doesn't say anything else. He feels guilty, yeah, but he doesn't think he should have to feel guilty for saying how he feels, what he's thinking. That should be a good thing.

When Harry finally does speak, though, Louis' guilt level skyrockets.

“Starting to think you're ashamed of me or something.”

And he says it with this tiny smile that doesn't reach his eyes, like he's trying to make it seem like a joke, but Harry's transparent and Louis is such a fucking shit, but he maintains that honesty is a good thing and it's not like he can change how he feels, right?

“I'm not, not at all,” Louis insists, shaking his head as if that helps his case. “I love you a lot, babe. I just don't want him loving you yet, okay?”

Harry nods, his lips tight as he cradles his mug of cocoa in his lap, staring down into the steaming liquid.

“I know you love me, Lou. I know that,” he says quietly. “But, fuck, there are a lot of things you don't want, you know?”

Louis sighs sadly because he doesn't know what to say to that. It doesn't seem like a lot to him, but he supposes to normal people, maybe it is. Maybe not wanting to completely intertwine your life with your boyfriend's isn't normal.

But, they're a little different and not just because Louis' fucked up over relationships. They work together. They're dating and they're working together and it's a lot. They're together almost every day and Louis just really likes having things that are only his- not Harry's. And Niall is number one on that list.

Louis takes the mug out of Harry's hand and sets it on the coffee table next to his own before crawling into his boyfriends lap, kneeling over him. Harry's curls are messy from their romp and he's still got a hint of pink in his cheeks from the exuberance of it and he's just- he's just really beautiful.

“I'll try, okay?” Louis says, bringing his hands up to the sides of Harry's neck, dipping his fingertips into the messy curls. “I'll try to be better, but Niall's like-” He tilts his head to the side, wincing, trying to find the right words. “He's like the big one, you know? He's the only one who's always there, always has been, and he's just- he's the big one, alright?”

Harry nods and forces a little smile and Louis frowns, pressing a kiss into his boyfriend's lips. He's not pacified, Louis knows. He just doesn't know what else he has to offer.

\---

Part of Louis' attempt at trying to be better is agreeing to go to this gig Harry's excited about. It's a local band that Harry's a fan of and Louis agrees with the understanding that Harry will have friends there. And Louis will meet them.

So, he switches shifts with Christian to get the night off and, as he gets ready, trying on every single piece of clothing he owns, he wishes he could just crawl under his bed and hide from the evening. The thing is, yeah, they've been together for a while now. It's been a long while and he knows Harry's friends know about him and now he's going to meet them and it's all just really scary. What if they don't like him? And, the even scarier and always present thought... What if Louis loves them?

His brain is always so many steps ahead and he wonders what will happen if he becomes a real part of these people's lives and then the thing with Harry doesn't work out. He won't just lose Harry, he'll lose his friends. It's just easier to keep some distance sometimes.

When they walk into the small, dark club, Harry takes Louis' hand and leads him to the bar, ordering them beers, and Louis tries to breathe normally as he takes in the crowd. With every face he sees, he wonders if Harry knows them, wonders if that's Liam or if that's Zayn.

“Babe,” Harry says lowly into his ear. “Relax, come on. It's not a big deal, yeah?”

Louis tries to smile but his nod is too jerky to pass for relaxed, so he takes a long sip from his beer instead, hoping the alcohol will loosen him up. Harry starts to lead them through the crowd, but they only take a few steps before someone's rushing up to them and hugging Harry tightly. Louis stands back, begging his heart to please slow down to a normal rate.

“Someone's had a couple, haven't they?” Harry asks, amused, directing his question to another man off to the side. “Liam, get off of me, you clingy animal.”

Liam, apparently, finally detaches, looking rosy-cheeked and happy and Harry immediately steps back to pull Louis closer by the waist.

“Liam, Zayn, this is Louis. Louis, this is Liam and Zayn.”

Louis smiles politely, but Liam's eyes light up and then it's Louis who's surrounded by a crushing hug.

“Oh, fuck, no, Liam,” Harry groans, trying to pry him off.

Louis is caught between laughing and crying as he awkwardly pats the lad's back with the hand not holding his beer and he shoots a nervous glance at Harry, wondering if he's always like this or if it's just intoxication.

“Liam! Off!” Harry commands like the guy's a dog or something, but he actually listens, pulling back and grabbing Louis' shoulders instead.

“It's so fucking good to finally meet you, mate. We've heard so much about you.”

Before Louis can respond, Zayn is pushing him out of the way and stepping up to shake Louis' hand.

“Sorry about that, he doesn't usually drink. He's only had two actually.”

Louis does smile at that, greeting Zayn properly, and they all chat for a bit before they move into the stage area, finding a nice spot toward the back where they can lean against a wall. Louis is quiet for the most part, only speaking when spoken to directly, and he's constantly on edge, not sure if he wants them to like him or if he's afraid that they will. Pulling away and trying to hold on. Always.

As they wait for the band, Zayn gets distracted by a mopey Liam begging for just one more drink and Harry pulls Louis into a hug, kissing just below his ear.

“Thank you, babe,” he says quietly. “This is amazing, really.”

Louis doesn't feel amazing, honestly, but he holds onto Harry's neck, letting Harry's fingers slide up under Louis' shirt and the skin on skin contact feels nice. It's something to focus on and, as the band starts, Louis still feels anxious and a bit like he can't breathe, but he has Harry's hand on his hip and it's enough to keep him grounded.

Halfway through the show, Louis tells Harry he'll be right back and he pushes his way through the crowd, heading for the patio. Stepping out into the cold night air feels good after the pressure inside and he pulls out the pack of cigarettes he'd brought just in case. As he lights up, he leans back against a railing at the edge of the patio and breathes, happy for this little escape.

But then he looks up to see Zayn approaching and hastily puts his guard back up, smiling politely at the lad as he moves into the spot next to Louis.

“Didn't know you smoked,” he says, cigarette between his lips as he pulls a lighter from his pocket.

“Never used to,” Louis says, looking down at the ground and shrugging. “Something about tending bar and smoking.”

Zayn nods at that and Louis thinks maybe he does like this lad. He seems thoughtful and quiet and Louis kind of likes that he can't tell what he's thinking. He relaxes a bit into the silence before Zayn speaks again, staring out at the street.

“He said this stuff is hard for you. Meeting the friends and all that.”

Well. Maybe Louis doesn't like him as much as he thought he did. Or maybe he doesn't like Harry as much as he thought he did. Either way, he's irritated that this has been a topic of discussion between Harry and his friends.

“Oh, did he,” Louis says quietly, flicking his cigarette.

“He did,” Zayn replies, still staring off past Louis. “He's mad for you. You know that, right? Like, I'm pretty sure I heard him use the phrase 'soul mate' and I'm not convinced he was joking.”

Louis wonders if this is some sort of test to see how much it'll take to get him to just run. His palms feel sweaty and his tongue feels bigger in his mouth and he really wants to. He really wants to run.

“Listen, I'm not saying that to freak you out or anything, but we care about him a lot and he seems to think you're in this for real.” Zayn pauses to take a drag from his cigarette, the end burning orange in the darkness, and Louis can feel his own fingernails digging into his palm. “I hope you are. You seem like a cool lad and god knows Harry's obnoxiously happy with you, so I really hope you are. In it for real, I mean.”

Louis' cigarette has burned down to the filter in his hand and he stares at it for a second before tossing it into an ashtray close by. Zayn stubs his own cigarette out and he tosses it next to Louis', then pauses in front of him, finally looking into his eyes.

“I'm sorry if that upset you at all. I meant what I said, that you seem like a cool lad.”

Zayn gives him a small smile, gently clapping Louis on the shoulder before going back inside and leaving Louis to panic alone. Instead of going in, he slides down to sit against the railing, knees tucked up, and he smokes another cigarette, even though it burns his throat.

He's still not ready to go back in and, just as he's contemplating truly fucking up his throat and lighting a third, Harry comes out, scanning the patio before finding him.

“Hey,” he says, concerned, squatting in front of where Louis' hugging his knees. “You okay, love?”

Louis looks into his unbearably kind eyes as he feels the backs of his fingers smooth over his cheek. He's so good, too good, and Louis feels the muscles in his chest squeezing painfully.

“Lou, seriously, babe, talk to me. Did something happen? You look pale.”

He shakes his head, not wanting Harry to know what Zayn said to him. He's fairly sure Harry would be angry at his friend for it and Louis doesn't want that.

“Just not feeling well,” he says, reaching up to touch Harry's wrist where his hand is cupping his face. “Think I should head home if that's alright?”

He almost cringes as he says it because he feels awful. This was the big night, this was him trying, and he's about to punk out because Harry's mad for him and Louis _is_ in this for real, isn't he? He's in it, completely buried, and that's fucking overwhelming.

“Yeah, of course. Just let me say goodbye-”

“No, stay, Harry,” Louis says softly, pulling him in for a short kiss. “Stay and have fun. Please.”

Harry is not easily convinced, but he eventually agrees to let Louis take a cab home, giving him one last kiss before Louis gets into the car.

And, as he drives away, he thinks to himself that things have already gotten so messy.

\---

Harry keeps glancing anxiously toward the door as Louis takes a count of the bottles in the cooler. He's been doing it all night and Louis' curious as to what's going on with him, but he lets it go, going back to counting. With his head half in the little cooler, he hears Harry greet someone happily, almost excitedly, and from Louis' vantage point on his knees, he can see Harry run around the bar, out of his sight.

Curious, Louis stands and sees Harry hugging a pretty girl tightly, beaming. She looks familiar, but Louis can't quite see her whole face, her hair falling over her eyes in the embrace. It's not until they part that Louis gets a good look and, yeah, he definitely recognizes her. He just doesn't know why. Something in him tightens anyway, feeling anxious for a reason Louis can't quite figure.

“Lou!” Harry shouts happily, pushing the girl onto a stool and running back behind the bar to drag Louis over across from her. “Lou, this is Gemma,” he says, eyes twinkling.

That's when Louis realises he's meeting Harry's sister.

He freezes, jaw slack from surprise, and Harry grins more, leaning down to kiss his temple. The place is almost empty, just a few people scattered around the room, but Louis feels trapped anyway, like people are pressing in on him from all sides.

“Uh, hi,” he finally forces out, attempting a smile.

“Hello, Louis Tomlinson,” Gemma says, grinning. “Heard so much about you. Like, too much, probably,” she adds, throwing Harry a little mock glare.

Louis can't breathe. He's really quite sure he's not breathing. His hair is a mess and he's wearing day old clothes and he spilled beer on his trousers earlier and he reeks and he's meeting Harry's sister. And she probably knows too much about him. Fuck.

“You didn't tell him I was coming, did you?” Gemma asks Harry, carefully eyeing Louis, noticing how rigid he's gone.

“Wanted it to be a surprise!” Harry says defensively, curling an arm around Louis' hip.

Louis forces himself to suck some air in and tries harder to smile, to act like this is the most lovely surprise ever because he doesn't want to make Gemma feel bad.

“It's surprising,” he nods, avoiding Harry's gaze. “I've heard a lot about you, too.”

Gemma relaxes and Harry pours her a beer and Louis tries to look like a normal person, like he's not panicked or angry or upset at all.

“Guessing you didn't tell him about dinner tomorrow then either?” Gemma asks carefully, watching Louis like he could snap at any moment.

And maybe she's right, if her idea of snapping is running as far away from this situation as possible.

“He didn't, no,” Louis responds when Harry doesn't.

And he can't explain the wave of disappointment rushing through him, mixing with the anger and the panic and the hurt. He can't explain any of it, just knows he doesn't want to be here.

Louis makes polite small talk for a while before excusing himself to the loo with what he hopes is a polite smile. He doesn't stop at the loo, though, walks straight toward the back exit and steps out into the fresh air, leaning back against the brick wall.

He pulls out a cigarette and lights it, closing his eyes as he takes in lungful after lungful of smoke. By the time he's chucking the butt into an ashtray, he feels like maybe he can breathe again. Maybe.

When he goes back in a few minutes later, Gemma's gone and Harry tells him she went to check into her hotel. Louis barely looks at him for the rest of the night, but he feels Harry's concerned eyes on his back almost constantly as they work.

-

They're quiet as they lock out the last of the customers, submerging the bar in silence as they set about their closing tasks. They've done this enough times that they know their places. Harry checks the levels on the liquor as Louis restocks the coolers. Harry counts the money in the till while Louis wipes down counters. It's routine.

But usually the routine is coated in laughter and jokes and dotted with kisses and slaps to the bum. Tonight, though, there's just this tense silence flooding the air between them and Louis grits his teeth as he wipes down tables.

Finally, Harry seems to have had enough. ‘I need you to tell me why you’re upset, Louis.” His voice is louder than Louis is accustomed to and he wonders fleetingly if this is Harry’s version of yelling, this slightly increased volume. “Tell me right now, because I’m starting to get angry that you’re angry and I don’t know if that’s fair or not.”

And somehow, just the word “angry” makes it race through him again, the heat of the feeling.

“Your sister was here, Harry,” Louis spits loudly, snapping around to glare at his beautiful boyfriend. “You knew she'd be here and you didn't fucking tell me.”

“And why-”

“You consciously pushed me into taking this step that you knew I wouldn't be ready for. You sprung it on me because you knew I'd say no if you asked me first and I fucking told you from the very beginning that I was shit at relationships, but you seem to keep trying to pretend that's not a fact of the situation.”

Harry's eyes bug out, his fists clenching at his sides. “Shit, babe, that's not what I intended at all. I just thought it'd be a fun surprise.”

Louis brings his hands up to his face, wiping at his skin, and it feels like his rib cage is slowly crushing his lungs.

“I don't know about your intentions, but it feels like you tricked me into taking a big step forward in this relationship and that's not fucking fair.”

It's silent as he keeps his face buried in his hands, afraid to see the look in Harry's eyes. He doesn't want to see the hurt in them, doesn't want to see the sadness.

When he feels Harry's hands on his wrists, pulling Louis' hands down, he keeps his gaze to the side, avoiding eye contact.

“I hate that look on your face,” Harry says softly, his voice cracking right down the middle. “And I hate that I'm the reason it's there.”

Louis finally looks up into Harry's shining eyes and he swallows heavily. His chest is aching now, his muscles tense with the constant struggle between running away and pushing in closer.

"It seems like lately I've been making you unhappy as much as I've been making you happy," he says, shaking his head slowly. “We need to stop this now because I can't make you unhappy anymore, Lou, I can't do that.”

As Harry takes a step back, Louis' hand instinctively reaches out, holding onto him.

“Wait,” he says quickly, feeling like his entire body is moving, muscles jerking and heart racing.

Harry looks broken as he whispers sadly. "I don't know how to not want the things you don't want, babe. And I can't stand that the things I want hurt you like this."

Louis wonders when he took his last breath because it feels like he hasn't since this conversation began. He pulls Harry close, staring at the taller man's chest, afraid to look up into those eyes again.

“I love you so much,” he chokes out word by word, fingers grasping onto Harry's shirt, not daring to let go just yet.

“I know,” Harry says quietly. “I know you do and you know I do, but sometimes that's not enough.”

They stand in silence and Louis realises he _must_ be breathing because he can hear it, ragged and loud in the still air, mixed with Harry's. His mind blanks until he's not thinking about any of it, just the feel of Harry's shirt and the smell of his skin invading his senses. Finally, after a long silence, a long blankness, Harry speaks, voice rough and shaky in Louis' ear.

“Kiss me,” he says. “Kiss me and then walk away from this. We have to.”

Louis barely lets the words touch his consciousness, gripping tighter onto Harry as he shakes his head.

Harry pushes a finger under Louis' chin, forcing him to meet his gaze. “It'll be better this way.”

Louis stares up into his eyes and, at that moment, he hates himself for letting anything else matter except this person in his arms. It's easy to let everything else fall away when it's just the two of them alone in the bar, easy to not care about anything else.

“If it was just about you, it would be so easy to let you have all of me,” Louis says, letting his fingertips skim the back of Harry's neck. “Completely and permanently, you'd have it all.”

Harry smiles a wobbly smile, tinged with sadness, and he pulls Louis in closer. “But it's not just about me, babe. That's not how it works.” He dips his head lower, lips hovering over Louis' as he breathes onto them, “now kiss me.”

As Louis presses his lips into Harry's, he feels a sudden swell of sadness consuming him, wrapping around both of them, bleeding into the kiss. Because it's a goodbye of sorts, an ending; it's a failure, this kiss, and Louis lets tears fall from his eyes as he pulls Harry's lips into his, savouring every single second of it.

When Louis finally pulls away, he's shaking a bit and Harry drops his arms, stepping back.

Louis doesn't reach out to stop him this time. Instead, he takes shaky steps toward the door and pushes himself outside and then it's actually over. It's done.

\---

The next night, Louis is in bed when he hears the door of his flat being opened and, since only one person has his key, he just buries himself further under the blanket, curling away from the bedroom door.

To his surprise, Niall doesn't say a word. Louis can hear him kicking off his shoes, then he feels the bed dip and Niall pushes himself under the blanket, pressing up against Louis' back. He wraps an arm around Louis' waist and just holds him and Louis has no idea what he knows or _how_ he knows because he hasn't told him anything, hasn't responded to any of his texts all day. But clearly he knows something's wrong and Louis curls into himself tighter, the ache in his chest making it hard to breathe.

“You're alright,” Niall whispers against his neck.

Louis feels his eyes burn and he's so angry. A little bit angry with Harry because he told him, _he told him_ to go slowly, but mostly angry with himself because what kind of person has someone like Harry and insists on going slowly? What kind of person can be so completely in love with someone and still be terrified of commitment? It makes no sense.

He tells himself it was never going to work anyway, that he's beyond fixing, and it's better that it's over now. He tries, anyway, tries to believe that, even though the aching in his chest is reminding him that it's not necessarily true.

“Talk to me,” Niall says softly, stroking his thumb over Louis' arm, whispering into his neck.

Louis swallows thickly and a tear falls from the corner of his eye, bleeding into the pillow beneath. “'S over,” he mumbles, voice hoarse.

He feels Niall pull him in closer, kissing the back of his neck. Louis can tell him all the details later, but for now he just lets Niall hold him and rub his stomach the way Louis likes.

After a long silence, after Louis' cheeks have mostly dried, he turns and buries his face in Niall's chest.

“How is this the only relationship I've managed to keep up? You smell bad and you're weird,” He says, his voice wet and sad, and he pulls back to look into Niall's eyes. “How are you the only one I've ever let in?”

Niall's fingers drift over Louis' back, his touch comforting. “Helps that you're not in love with me,” Niall answers, quirking his mouth up in a sad smile. “Less pressure that way.”

Louis knows it's different. He knows. He just doesn't understand how he's let Niall get so close over the years, closer than anyone, and yet he can't deal with a serious, long-term relationship.

“I told him I love him,” Louis says, shaking his head to himself. “How can I do that, how can I tell him I'm in love with him and then freak out when he springs his sister on me?”

Niall's face falls in realization, a gentle “oh” coming from his throat as he understands what happened, why it's over. He gives Louis another sad smile.

“Your problem isn't with letting people know you care, Lou,” Niall says softly, pulling him closer so Louis can rest his head on Niall's chest. “Your problem is with boundaries.”

Louis slumps because he doesn't understand, doesn't know what the difference is. He just doesn't fucking know.

"Tell me then. Why boundaries?"

Niall hesitates for a moment, just rubbing Louis' back, before he speaks slowly, like he knows the bits he wants to say but he's got to put them together now.

“If you let someone cross your boundaries and push their way into the other parts of your life, they can hurt you more. So, you isolate your relationships, keep them all nice and neatly sectioned off so that when it all goes to shit, only that part of you can get hurt. They can't touch the other stuff.”

Louis takes this in and he supposes that, yeah, that makes sense. He's just never realised that was what he was doing. He remembers being afraid of loving Harry's friends and now he imagines introducing Harry to his family and having him by for holidays and he knows that his family would fall in love with him and then what if it ended? His family would ask about him and give him lectures for not trying hard enough and it's just easier to avoid all of that, to keep it separate.

Boundaries. It makes sense, he supposes.

“Why?” He asks, hoping Niall can answer that as well.

“I'm not, like, a psychologist or anything, but I'm guessing we can blame your shithead of a dad at least a wee bit.”

Louis shakes his head quickly, doesn't want to think about him now because he's already upset and he doesn't want to go there.

“Whatever,” Louis mumbles. “Guess I'm just fucked up for life. Looks like you're stuck with me.”

Niall kisses the top of his head and holds him close, sighing.

“Yeah, I'll take ya,” he says softly. “No one else I'd rather be stuck with anyway.”

And that's enough, he guesses. He'd fallen hard and fast for Harry and he suspects the fall out of love won't be so easy, but he doesn't even really mind. It's kind of nice to have, nice to know he's capable of that at least. If nothing else, he can love.

\---

Luckily, he doesn't work with Harry for a few days after that. It's maybe the longest stretch they've not worked together and Louis wonders if Harry switched shifts to avoid him. Probably.

But it can't last forever and when Louis walks into the bar on a Thursday, Harry's there, and Louis wishes he knew what he was thinking. Does he hate him? Is he angry? Is he just fucking miserable like Louis?

But as Louis walks around the counter, Harry looks up and gives him a small smile, a smile that hurts in Louis' chest because Harry's smiles used to be his and they're not anymore, they're not his to keep and that's hard to swallow.

“Hey,” Harry says, eyes flicking away and then back to Louis. “You alright working with me?”

Louis takes a deep breath and nods. He has to be, really. He can't just up and quit and not pay his rent after all.

“Yeah,” he says softly, offering his own small smile. “Yeah, it'll be good. I- I've missed you, so. Good, yeah.”

Harry bites his lip and nods and Louis has to look away because he'll kiss him right there at work, he'll close the distance between them and just kiss him and he's not allowed to do that anymore. He walked away and it's done now and Louis has to take a breath to steady himself.

“Yeah, I've missed you, too,” Harry says softly.

And then he's turning away and Louis goes to clock in, wondering how this evening is going to go.

As it turns out, though, the evening goes surprisingly smoothly. They're quieter than normal, sure, but it's not nearly as tense as Louis was expecting. Because the thing is, it's still Harry and it's still sort of easy. As long as he can keep his hands and lips to himself, it's easy to be around Harry and they still move perfectly together. Fluid.

By the time they lock the doors, Louis isn't really nervous or tense. He breathes out a long breath as Harry walks back behind the bar and it's just the two of them, alone in the shadowy bar. He has to push back every impulse in his body that's telling him to wrap his arms around Harry's long waist and hold him, but he still feels better somehow. Alone with Harry is still his favourite place to be.

\---

Louis is exhausted. Niall had insisted on going out the previous night and Louis never fares well on nights out with Niall. Niall can drink for hours, maybe even days, without getting well and truly drunk. So, he buys them shots and Louis struggles to keep up with him until he's tripping over his own feet and possibly singing Cher very loudly. He remembers shouting at Niall, asking if he believed in life after love, but now that he thinks about it, he's pretty sure that was singing.

So, he's exhausted and hungover and he's working with Harry and it's been two weeks since the break up and everything is dreadful. That may be the hangover talking, but the hangover is in charge today.

“Hey, drink this,” Harry offers gently, setting a mug of coffee on the counter where Louis' slumped over, head in his hands.

Louis just nods and picks up the mug. He's not much for black coffee, usually only drinks those fancy coffee drinks with whipped cream and chocolate shavings, but it seems to fit the bill today. He needs a strong kick in the arse.

“Never go drinking with Niall. You'll regret it.”

He might still be a bit drunk, he thinks, because he seems to be speaking without thinking about it. Closing his eyes, he takes another sip, hoping to sort out his brain with the caffeine.

“That doesn't seem likely,” Harry mutters and his hand rests on Louis' back lightly, just enough to remind him that everything is dreadful because he can't lean back into that touch, can't have more of it. “Never did actually meet him, remember?”

It's not meant to be bitter or harsh, but Louis wants to crawl under the counter and curl up into a tiny ball and then keep curling up and folding in on himself until he disappears completely. It's just that kind of day.

“Sorry,” he mumbles into his coffee instead. “And thank you. For the coffee.”

Harry leans in for just a second before he snaps himself back and Louis sees the flash in his eyes, sees that he forgot. Louis' been catching himself, too, reaching out to squeeze Harry's bum or hug him or just touch him, and he has to physically jerk his hand back when he realises. And then there's the immediate surge of sadness because he hates that he can't touch him and he sees it in Harry's eyes now, that heartbreaking look as he turns away.

The coffee helps and he starts to feel human again and by 1:00, there are only a handful of customers left. This is when he and Harry would usually laugh and talk and maybe even run off for a quick snog, but tonight Louis' just cleaning the same surfaces over and over because there's nothing else to do.

“Harry?” He asks where he's actually wiping down the liquor bottles. He's clearly hit new levels of boredom.

“Yeah?” Harry answers from the cash register. Louis doesn't even know what he's doing.

“We should- I mean, if you think we could- but we should be, like, friends.”

Because Louis misses him and not just the kissing and the sex and the love part. He misses joking around with him and laughing with him and just _talking_.

Harry gives him an uncertain glance, like he's considering it and that fucking sucks because he has to think about whether or not he wants to be Louis' friend, but he guesses it is a little complicated. It's messy.

“I'd like that, yeah, but-” He pauses, biting his lip nervously and Louis' heart sinks a little before he continues. “I don't want to be the sort of friends who talk about their drunken snogs and stuff, y'know?”

Louis looks at him for a long while. He's not sure if Harry's insinuating that maybe Louis snogged someone the night before or if he's just speaking generally, but his response is all the same, really.

“I don't either,” he says, his chest feeling tight and his hands itching to touch the little patch of skin where Harry's shirt is rucked up on the side from stretching earlier.

He doesn't know how to say that he hasn't snogged anyone else and doesn't want to snog anyone else. He doesn't know how to say that he thinks about Harry more than he's comfortable with and that he's still completely mad for him and will be for a long time to come.

“I- I haven't, you know,” he says quietly, focusing his attention on the bottle he's wiping just to give him something to do. “Don't want to.”

Harry's silent for a moment and, when Louis finally looks up, he snaps out of some sort of daze, running his hand through his hair and sighing heavily.

“Yeah,” he agrees shakily. “Yeah, alright. Good. So, friends.”

Louis smiles, setting down the bottle in his hands and turning to face him.

“Friends. Now entertain me, please, because I'm actually cleaning liquor bottles, Harry.”

Harry laughs at that and Louis feels a warm, calm feeling run through him at the sound. This could be good, the friend thing. It really could. They just have to be careful.

\---

Two weeks later, Louis' being dragged into the familiar storage closet and then it's dark and there are lips on his and he doesn't even have time to think, he just pushes into it with all of the desperation he's been feeling for the past month.

Their teeth clink together and his lips are already bruised from the force of it, but Louis just grips onto Harry's collar, pulling him closer, closer, closer. He can't breathe but he doesn't care because Harry's kissing him and it feels like it's been fucking years.

“What-” Louis breathes out, still pressed up against Harry's lips, but he's interrupted by Harry's tongue, snaking into his mouth and his question wasn't really important anyway.

Louis moans into the kiss, a little high-pitched noise, and he grasps at Harry's neck, probably leaving marks across his skin. Harry doesn't seem to mind, hoisting him up and turning them to push Louis back against the closed door.

When Harry eases off just a bit, Louis thinks maybe he'll cry, needing the pressure on his lips to feel sane.

“Can I suck you off?” Harry asks roughly before pressing back into the kiss.

Louis' eyes roll back and he still feels like he may cry, but in a different way now. His heart is about to explode in his chest, he's sure of it.

“Harry,” he breathes out roughly, trying to find some sort of center, something to keep himself grounded.

But there are fingers on his trousers now, unclasping them and pushing them down to his thighs and Louis doesn't know when he got so hard, but he is now, desperate to be touched.

“Gonna- gonna suck you,” Harry says again, biting at Louis' lips as he tries to pull away.

He falls to his knees so quickly that Louis feels dizzy as his boxers are pulled down and there's a wet mouth swallowing his cock and he nearly falls over, but he grips onto Harry's shoulders tightly, releasing a shuddering whine.

It lasts about three minutes. Louis’ knees buckle and he claws at Harry’s shoulders, slamming his head back into the door as Harry keeps him up with a strong grip. And then he's coming, crying out and shaking all over as he does and maybe he's actually crying, too.

When Harry pulls off, sitting back, Louis' chest is heaving as he gasps in air and, yes, he's crying. His cheeks are wet and more tears are spilling over and it's all too much.

He should feel mortified, but Harry stands and kisses him and murmurs into his lips and he doesn't feel embarrassed, just feels relieved. He eventually calms down, his breath stabilising and his tears drying as Harry holds him, pressing soft kisses all over his neck and face, over any bit of skin he can find.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, lips resting against Harry's jaw. “Got a little intense there.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Harry answers sheepishly, ducking his face into Louis' neck. “I just, fuck, just wanted you so bad. I shouldn't have done that. We were being so good.”

“You shouldn't have,” Louis agrees quietly. “I'm so glad you did, though.”

The longer they stand there, the more Louis is aware that they've left Lidia alone out there and they need to get back, but it's so nice here in the dark. When Louis kisses Harry again, it's softer, more controlled, and their breath is still heavy and loud in the small space, but it's calmer as they alternate between soft kisses and just breathing against each other.

“You alright?” Harry asks, nudging his nose against Louis' cheekbone before kissing him there, too.

“Yeah, fine, just wasn't expecting and it took the wind out of me a bit.”

“Sorry,” Harry says again, pulling Louis into a warm hug, his lips resting at the crook of Louis' neck. “It was okay, though?”

“Yeah, it was okay. Very okay.”

Louis runs his hands down Harry's back and over his hips and that's when he notices that Harry's trousers are loose around his waist, unbuttoned at the front.

“Did you come?” Louis asks curiously. In the dark, he couldn't see, but now he realises Harry was probably wanking himself as he sucked Louis off.

“Yeah, when you came,” Harry sighs, squeezing him around his waist.

“Can I clean you up?” he asks, fingers playing at the waistband of Harry's boxers. “Before we go back out there?”

Harry shivers just enough for Louis to feel it and he smiles, turning them so Harry's back is pressed against the door. He drops to his knees and pushes Harry's shirt up enough so he can press his lips to his stomach, just above his boxers.

“Lou,” Harry whispers, dropping a hand to his head and cradling his neck as Louis kisses across his toned stomach, lips bumping into the fabric of his boxers. “'M gonna get hard again.”

It's more of a warning than anything, but Louis doesn't really care. He pulls the boxers down and lowers his lips until they drift over a splatter of come on his skin near the base of his cock. He licks it away slowly, licks all around his growing erection, cleaning the drops of come away from his skin. Finally, he focuses in and gently takes the head of Harry's cock between his lips, humming contentedly. He's always loved sucking Harry, loves how perfectly he fits between his lips. He loves the smell, manly but clean, and he loves how much Harry loves it.

“Louis,” Harry whimpers above him, fingers digging into his hair just enough for him to feel it.

Louis lowers down the length, sucking him so lightly, just cleaning him up, and then he pulls back to speak.

“D'you want to come again?”

Harry pauses for a moment, fingers still rubbing against Louis' scalp until he finally speaks nervously.

“What if- I don't know if this is it or- but what if we waited until close? Will you still want to then?”

Louis smiles, kissing Harry's hip and pulling his boxers back up to cover him. Standing, he finds Harry's face with his hands and pulls him down to kiss him yet again, making up for not kissing him for so long.

“Yeah, I'll still want to,” he nods into the kiss. “But I don't want to fall back into anything, so maybe we should have some rules? Like, only here maybe? Not at each other's flats?”

Harry takes a deep breath and nods, too, whispering, “yeah, okay, good,” against Louis' lips.

“And I think- maybe just- like, only handjobs and blowjobs?” Louis stumbles to say, not knowing how to say that if he gets his cock inside Harry's arse, he'll sink too fast and he'll never be able to stay away after that.

“Yeah, alright, so no fucking,” Harry confirms, sounding much less awkward than Louis. As always.

“Yeah,” Louis says again, nodding.

They're silent for a moment, just touching, until Harry sighs loudly and announces that they need to get back out there and Louis is already fairly convinced he's going to be fired for being gone so long. So they get their trousers done up and adjust their shirts as well as they can in the dark before they step out into the dimly lit hallway and Louis gets his first glimpse of Harry's swollen pink lips and flushed cheeks. He groans, immediately looking away because it's not fucking fair.

“What?” Harry asks, confused, dropping a hand to rub Louis' hip and stepping closer.

“How am I supposed to get over you when you look like that?” Louis mumbles, chancing another peek at Harry's face, meeting his eyes.

Harry bites his pink lip as he searches Louis' face, then he looks from side to side quickly before he pushes Louis back up against the wall and kisses him again, long and heavy.

“I've given up on getting over you,” he says lowly before kissing him once more and turning away, back toward the bar.

Louis stays there, finding his breath for a minute and using the wall to keep him standing. Because this is not a good idea, probably. You can't break up with someone and keep kissing them and blowing them and expect everything to work out alright.

But rationality can go fuck itself, he thinks. There's no way he can stop now.

\---

It sort of does work, though. Or maybe Louis is just trying to convince himself that what they're doing isn't unhealthy and destructive, but it feels okay to him. They have stolen kisses and mind-blowing orgasms and fun. They have fun together again because they don't have to worry about keeping themselves in check so much; they can touch without panicking over it. They laugh and spray water at each other and it feels a lot like the way they were even before they started dating.

Except now they get each other off and maybe sometimes Harry accidentally slips, whispering “I love you” between post-blowjob kisses and Louis nods, whispering “yeah” in return. It's probably teetering on the edge of inappropriate, but Louis has most of the stuff he loved about being with Harry without meeting the family and talking about the future.

There are things he still misses, though. He misses having Harry in his bed, falling asleep next to him and waking up next to him. He misses their dates, when Harry would drag Louis along to some terrible open mic poetry night and he'd stifle his laughter through overly dramatic hipster teens pouring their hearts out on a little stage in the corner of a coffee shop. He misses Harry calling him late at night and he misses Harry singing to him during those calls, sort of like he didn't realise he was doing it, just distracted notes and words falling from his lips and making their way into Louis' ear. God, he misses that.

But what he has is good enough. He has Harry's hand in his pants and he has Harry's lips on his and it's enough to keep him happy. It's so, so good.

It's good for about a month anyway, and then Harry's mouthing needily at his neck after close one night, fingers wrapped around him, stroking until Louis thinks he's going to lose his mind and that's when he says it.

“Want you to fuck me.”

Louis' mind does a short circuit thing because just hearing Harry say that makes his dick twitch and he wants it so fucking badly. But there are rules for a reason and Louis has to wait a long moment to remember those reasons, to clear his mind enough to think.

“Rules,” he says because full sentences are difficult with Harry's fist gripping his cock. “No fucking.”

“Lou, please,” Harry begs, a husky whine in his voice. “I think about it all the time. I go home after I've been with you and I get my fingers inside myself, just thinking about how you felt, but it's not the same. Need to feel you, please.”

Louis shudders at the mental image of Harry fingering himself, thinking about him. Maybe he even whispers Louis' name when he makes himself come. It all makes Louis buck into Harry's hand, dropping his head back because he wants to see that so badly. And as Harry whispers “please” again, Louis thinks maybe he could see it.

“Show me,” he whispers, bringing his head back up to look into Harry's eyes. “Will you? Show me?”

Harry seems to be equally excited and disappointed because Louis hasn't agreed to fuck him, but this is something. He lets go of Louis' cock and gets himself undressed in a flash, hopping up on the bar counter and Louis is really glad he just cleaned it.

He has a packet of lube in his hand that he must have had in his pocket and Louis wonders if he always keeps it on hand or if he was hoping before he even came to work that Louis would fuck him tonight. The idea sends a shiver down his spine.

When Harry gets his fingers slick, he props his feet up on the counter, spread out so Louis can see everything and now he realises what a bad idea this was. Because his whole body is thrumming with need, screaming with desire and he wants to touch where Harry is touching, wants to press his own fingers to Harry's hole and feel how hot he is there.

“Louis,” Harry moans, a choked off whine as he pushes a finger inside, the digit disappearing into his pretty arse. Louis has to grip the counter next to Harry's bum to keep himself upright.

As Harry loosens himself up and gets a second finger inside, Louis actually hurts from being so hard and so desperate. He feels sort of drunk, his mind fuzzy and thoughts blurred.

“Lou, please fuck me, please,” Harry moans, two fingers deep inside himself.

Louis can't not touch anymore, can't keep himself away, so he leans down and kisses just below Harry's balls, earning a broken cry as Louis moves his lips down to where Harry's fingers are moving inside himself. He licks his tongue out where Harry's fingers are stretching his rim, teasing the sensitive skin as the beautiful boy perched on the counter fucks himself faster and faster.

Harry continues to beg, desperate pleas escaping with his heavy breaths and Louis' painfully hard cock can't be ignored any longer.

“Yeah, okay, yeah,” he breathes, pressing one last kiss to Harry's rim before standing upright again. “There's a blanket. I think.”

He steps back and opens a little cabinet where they keep odds and ends and he produces a fleece blanket, laying it out on the floor behind the bar. When he looks up, Harry's still got his fingers inside himself and Louis steps over to touch Harry's wrist.

“Come on, down here,” he says, watching as Harry finally pulls his slick fingers out.

He drops down off the counter quickly, knees wobbly as he lands, and Louis cracks a smile through his lust. He helps Harry onto his back and pushes his knees up to spread him out. It's not until Louis is kneeling between Harry's legs that he realises one crucial thing.

“Fuck,” he mutters, glancing from Harry's slicked up hole to his face. “Please tell me you have a condom.”

He nods quickly, though, reaching over to where his jeans are crumpled on the floor and pulling a condom from the pocket. Louis breathes out, relieved, and takes the foil package from Harry's hand. As he opens it, he can't help but smile a bit.

“You certainly came prepared, didn't you?” He asks quietly, smirking a bit as he flicks his eyes up to Harry's, then back down to his hands, rolling the condom onto himself.

“Shut up,” Harry mutters, half-grumpy and half-needy. “Been wanting this for weeks.”

Louis doesn't even have to ask for the lube before Harry holds up the half-empty packet and Louis takes it, kissing the inside of Harry's knee where it's bent in the air. He lubes himself quickly, trying not to focus on the pleasure of his hand smoothing the substance over his cock because he's so fucking desperate for this that he might just come before he gets inside.

“Me too,” he whispers.

And he has. He's been thinking about it, wanking to memories of Harry's tightness and the beautiful noises he would make when Louis got in deep and the way his eyes would flutter as Louis moved inside him.

But now he's going to have it again and he lines himself up, swallowing down the emotion that comes with having Harry on his back in front of him, ready to take him. He's actually so in love with this boy it hurts.

“Ready?” He asks, just to be sure.

“Yeah, please,” Harry responds, arching his back momentarily in anticipation.

Louis nods, taking a deep breath, and pushes in slowly, gritting his teeth as he pushes past Harry's rim and feels that familiar warmth pressing in on him.

Harry's fingers fumble at Louis' arms, finding a grip and pulling him down as Louis bottoms out, pressed nice and tight against Harry's arse. He dips his head down to meet Harry's lips and, before they kiss, Harry whispers a “thank you” so coated with emotion that Louis doesn't know what to do with it. So he just kisses him, hoping Harry can feel it in his lips, all the things he wants to say.

He starts moving his hips slowly and Harry has to drop his head back, releasing Louis' lips as the thrusts get longer and heavier. He'd almost forgotten how good it was, how good Harry felt and how amazing he looked when Louis was inside him. Like Louis could do anything to him and Harry would trust him the whole way.

As he fucks in, his mind is cloudy and light and Harry's whispering his name over and over and Louis can't for the life of him remember why this is against the rules. Nothing could be more important than this.

He wants to draw it out, make it last, but he already knows this isn't the last time. It can't be. So, he speeds up his movements because he's so close and he needs it. Reaching down to grip Harry's dripping cock, he strokes evenly with his thrusts, wanting Harry to get there first.

“You look so good,” Louis breathes out, mind gone as he fucks and tugs and searches Harry's face, seeing a tear slide down from the corner of his eye from squeezing them so tightly shut. “Never should have been not fucking you, god.”

Harry whimpers and Louis can feel his muscles tightening up, squeezing his cock so tightly his vision goes dark at the feeling, but then Harry's fingers are digging into his shoulder, nails biting his skin, and he's coming. Louis rocks into him, fucking him through it, and Harry's body is jerking below his and Louis' so gone that Harry has to reach down to still his hand where he's still stroking him.

He comes then, with Harry's hand wrapped over his on Harry's spent cock and he drops his head onto Harry's chest as he releases, moaning Harry's name once because it's all for him, really, all of it.

When he's finished, he stays there for a long moment, face buried in Harry's chest and lungs working overtime as his body tingles with the leftover energy of his climax. Finally, he pulls out and dazedly removes the condom, tossing it into the bin next to them, making a note to himself to make sure it's not still there when they leave.

As they lay side by side, sweaty and breathing heavily, Louis surprises even himself when he suddenly laughs, roughly from his dry throat, and curls into Harry's body, tucking his face into his shoulder as he chuckles. Because fucking Harry is just that good. Good enough to make Louis smile so hard he laughs.

They spend an hour talking. Not really about anything deep and meaningful, just talking and touching and occasionally kissing, and it's the best Louis has felt in a long time. There's so much about Harry that he loves and the past month has been great, but they haven't really had anything like this since they were properly together. Laying naked together and talking and laughing and being hopelessly, stupidly in love.

“Do you remember the first thing I said to you?" Harry asks after a short silence.

And, yeah, Louis remembers. Always remembers that.

\---

When they've finally hauled themselves up from the floor and gotten dressed and Louis has flushed the used condom and they're walking to the door, he stops suddenly, pulling Harry in. Because he deserves to know, deserves to hear it, and Louis hasn't said the actual words since the night they ended it.

“I love you so much,” he whispers, looking up into Harry's eyes so he can see that he means it.

Harry freezes for a moment like he's holding his breath and then dips his head, eyes glittering until they disappear behind his eyelids and they kiss slowly and deeply, the way people in love ought to kiss.

And maybe Louis isn't ready to jump back into a relationship, not ready to meet families and talk about the future, but he thinks he will be. He'll get there, he'll figure it out. Until then, he'll hold onto what they have because what they have, well. It's pretty fucking amazing.

It's everything, really.


End file.
